Forgiveness
by vox.ex
Summary: What if Lena told Kara the story of her mother's death after saving Sam from the Worldkillers instead? (One-shot modified from the last chapter of Truths - now complete with the kiss people asked for)


Summary: Lena figures out Kara is Supergirl during the fight with the Worldkillers and they are both dealing with how to forgive each other and what the real reasons behind their secrets were.

Notes:

So this is a slightly modified version of the last chapter from my story "Truths", but I wanted to post it as a standalone as well in case people didn't want to read the whole story just to get to this part. There were also a couple things people asked for in the comments that I tried to include.

Basically, I was just getting ready to finally write the last chapter of a story when 4x07 aired, and I thought Lena's backstory would actually fit in really well after her and Kara's conflict in Season 3 with the whole Sam/Kryptonite thing.

PS: If you enjoy this and want to read 11 more chapters of what led up to it, feel free to read the rest of "Truths".

* * *

Lena doesn't know how she thought this would end, what would be left. But when it is; when Sam is safe and Reign is gone, the truth is all that remains among the rubble — the remnants of Kara's secrets and her lies left scattered and broken.

And she asks Kara for the time needed to try to make sense of them, for the distance needed to try and forget them. But in the end, she realizes she wants nothing more than to be able to forgive them.

She spends a lot of time thinking about forgiveness; the pain of it, the need for it, the want of it.

She thinks about the things she is trying to forgive.

But she isn't sure she knows what forgiveness would feel like anymore.

That maybe what she thought was forgiveness was really absolution, that we can absolve others but we can only forgive ourselves.

And she realizes that maybe it was really for forgiveness that she had needed to save Sam.

And maybe even then that it had been for the forgiveness of something else.

Maybe that's why she risked so much, why she felt the need to risk it alone, because if Kara had been lying to protect her, then maybe so was she.

* * *

Kara thinks about the things she felt she could accept.

She thinks about the things she's kept hidden and the things she's lost.

She thinks of Lena.

Thinks of the last time she saw her.

Thinks of the broken apologies and half told truths left between them — words spoken with the promise of meaning but holding nothing of their own to offer.

And she is thankful that she hadn't tried to hear her heartbeat then, that she couldn't tell if she was anxious or scared or hurt, because the only thing Kara had never wanted to have to save Lena from was herself.

But now she wasn't even sure which part of herself she was trying to protect her from anymore; whether it was the lost girl she had been or the flawed hero she was now.

She remembers what she told Eliza last year.

'I'm just accepting the fact that I'm not human. And if I am going to do the things I have to do, I have to walk away from certain vulnerabilities.'

Wonders if loving Lena is something she would ever be able to walk away from.

But then a gentle knock draws her from her thoughts and to her door.

And when Kara sees Lena on the other side, hears the tentative question and the desperate need it hides, "I was wondering if you would go somewhere with me?", she realizes that she already knows that she wouldn't.

* * *

Lena takes Kara to a hillside just far enough outside the city that the lights are too distant to block the stars.

They stand together, shoulders barely touching as if drawn to the comfort of each other even when neither knew how to ask for it.

She thinks about the stars and all they have been witness too — all the confessions they must have heard. Thinks that maybe that's why she brought Kara here.

She looks out at the city barely there in front of her, wonders how many others there are looking for absolution, searching for forgiveness, wonders how many of them ever find it. And just before her voice breaks the silence, she wonders if she can be one of them.

"I was four years old when my mother died"

Kara's eyes shifted to hers.

"We were visiting family. Somewhere by the water, a lake I think. It was…was so green, you know. It wasn't a very bright day, it was so overcast. But my mother used to say that's where the magic was. It was the rain that made the green."

She pauses, trying to keep the tears in her eyes from falling.

"She went swimming, but she-she didn't come back."

Kara's hand is on hers then, "Lena…" and a part of her wants to let her stop her from the rest, wants her to reach out and hold her and forget everything else, wants her to protect her like she promised she would.

But she can't stop now. If she stops, she isn't sure she'll ever tell anyone.

"I was there. I was with her on the shore when she went in, and when she went under, and I did nothing. I didn't run. I didn't cry. I just stood there."

And God, how many times she must have imagined she did. How many times had she heard her voice call out for her mother? How many times could she feel the cold water against her legs as she waded into the lake?

But what would it have changed?

Maybe nothing.

Maybe everything.

"What kind of child doesn't run to their mother or scream for help? I…I know — I knew something was wrong, and I did nothing. I just watched her die."

And she thinks that even if she couldn't have saved her mother, that maybe she could have at least saved herself.

She wonders if that's what she's doing now. If she's still trying to save herself after all these years.

"And afterward, I was brought to this terrible family. And I have spent my life fighting their legacy, and their crimes, and their evil deeds. But I-I've always known that deep down inside…that I belonged to them."

And maybe she is asking Kara to save her now instead.

"I just didn't want you to see it too, I didn't want you to think I was my brother, I didn't want you to have to watch as I let someone else die."

* * *

Kara watches Lena, sees the distant look in her eyes as she remembers all the pain that she held back for so long. And she knows that type of pain isn't easily forgotten; isn't ever forgiven. She knows because it's the kind of pain she's tried to hide in herself, to forgive in herself.

She remembers Lena's readiness to accept the guilt of Jack's death, of the city's anger. Remembers when Lena told her to stop believing in her, that she wasn't worth it. And she understands then that Lena needed to save Sam because she was trying to save a part of herself; that every weight she carried, every good thing she ever saw Lena do was to prove the innocence of that little girl she once was and the woman she is now.

But Kara doesn't tell her it's okay, she doesn't tell her that the past doesn't matter anymore, she doesn't promise her things that in the end mean nothing. Instead, she does the only thing she's ever felt could make the pain less, she proves to Lena she isn't alone.

Kara steps toward her, doesn't give her time to pull away, doesn't give her time to worry that she had been right. And she feels Lena's desperation to be proven wrong as soon as her arms wrap around her, feels her hands gripping at the back of her shirt, struggling for purchase, for something besides her pain to hold onto.

She can hear the pounding of Lena's heartbeat in her ears, feels it under her hands. She feels her own heartbeat quicken in return, feels it echo the frantic need to be closer, feels it's weight and its scars, wonders if it is enough to offer; if after everything the truth could still be enough.

"I was thirteen."

Her voice is quiet, the words hesitating to be let go of, and if they weren't this close to each other she isn't sure they could be heard.

"I was thirteen when my parents knew there was nothing they could do to save me except send me away."

Lena holds on tighter, tucks her head under her chin, and Kara thinks how Lena is holding her so tight she can almost feel it, wishes she could.

"I knew what was happening, I knew our planet was dying, I knew what that would mean. But I didn't do anything. I didn't try to stop them. I didn't tell anyone else. I let them lie to everyone they were sworn to protect."

Kara looks up at the stars above them, searching for the light that still haunts her like a ghost.

"And then I watched as they said goodbye and I knew, I knew I would never see them again, and still I didn't do anything. I didn't hold onto them. I let go. I let go and I let them die without me."

Lena lifts her head from Kara's chest, brings her eyes up to look at her.

"I never asked to survive. I never asked to be a God. I'm just the one who's left."

And Kara needs her to understand that, needs her to know the secrets she kept had nothing to do with trust.

" And it feels like everyone I love has lost something because of me. They've sacrificed something for me. And I let them. But I didn't ever want you to have to lose something because of me. And I was scared of loving you because I'm scared of being the one who survives again. I'm scared of being the one who's left again."

* * *

Kara thinks about the things she felt she could accept.

The pain of surviving, the burden of it, the fear of it.

She thinks about the things she's kept hidden and the things she's lost.

But then she looks down and sees Lena in her arms and thinks of all the things surviving has given her, that for everything she's lost there is something else she has found.

She lets her fingers trace the edge of Lena's jaw, tilting her chin up until they are close enough to each other that she can feel their noses touch. And Kara starts to think of the stars above them and the part of herself that will always be there, wonders if there is enough of her left to be all the things that Lena needs. But then Lena's hand is on hers, warm and gentle, pulling her forward until the last of the distance is gone between them, and when they finally kiss Kara realizes that you don't have to be whole to be loved.

* * *

Lena has spent a lot of time thinking about forgiveness.

The pain of it, the need for it, the want of it.

But it isn't until that moment, lying there in Kara's arms, her head resting over her heart and both their eyes turned to the sky above them — to the stars that had just been witness to a different kind of confession — that she thinks maybe she finally understands the truth of it, that loving each other is the only way to finally forgive themselves.

* * *

Notes:

Okay, let me know what you think. If you'd rather have this whole thing take place after the Adam scene instead let me know and I can edit it to make it work.

Thanks as always for reading. Comments and the like are always welcome and very much appreciated!


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